Tell The Tale
by chemm80
Summary: Sam and Dean have a fireside chat.


**Title: **Tell The Tale

**Author: **chemm80

**Category: **Supernatural

**Characters/Pairings:** Sam and Dean, reference to Sam/OFC

**Disclaimer: **Dean and Sam don't belong to me.

**Summary: **Dean and Sam have a fireside chat. (Set Season 1, Post _Shadow_)

Dean lowered himself to the ground with a grunt and a sigh. He braced himself by an elbow on the cooler next to him and downed a good half of his beer before exhaling on the downswing. He belched loudly.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about."

Sam smiled crookedly from across the fire. "Nice, Dean."

The temperature had dropped pretty sharply once the sun went down behind the mountain. The fire between them was too small to put out a lot of heat, but you just had to have a fire when you had to wait out the night in the woods. Some kind of fucking rule, wasn't it?

Dean collapsed onto his back. "Man, I've had it. Must be all the fresh air up here or somethin'.

"I thought you hated camping," Sam said.

"What I hate is all the damned trees – I like to be able to see what's coming at me. And mosquitoes – those suck, too. But I always kind of liked sitting around a fire. Or one where I didn't have to dig up a rotting corpse first, anyway."

"Lack of digging is always a bonus."

Dean rolled onto his elbow and looked into the flames for a minute.

"Remember when Dad used to take us bowhunting? He'd run our asses into the ground all day long, but we'd sit around the fire every night - drinking beer, shootin' the shit."

He peeled a piece of label off his bottle and tossed it into the fire, watching the flames change color as they crawled over the ink.

"Hell, that was about the only time I remember Dad being even halfway relaxed." Dean shook his head. "Big, Bad John Winchester, telling stories around a campfire."

Sam grunted and took another drink.

"He did have some good ones, though." Dean chuckled. "And some crazy ones."

The woods were quiet. There was no wind, too cold for crickets. There was an occasional pop from the fire, sparks spraying up into the dark with the crack of the sap.

"Remember that time Dad claimed he fought an Aztec Death Bird?" Dean snorted. "Huh. That was some nasty shit all over the hood of his truck all right, but we're supposed to believe that wild-ass story…"

Dean looked up at his brother and his voice trailed off. It had just occurred to him that he seemed to be taking this little walk down memory lane alone. Sam was sitting on one hip with his elbow draped over his bent knee. His shaggy head hung down and he was flicking a rock around in the dirt with his index finger. His face was in shadow, but Dean didn't have to see him clearly to know his chin was jutted forward in a familiar stubborn line.

Christ, he was too tired for this shit. He rubbed his hand over his face. _Suck it up, Dean. Better head this off at the pass before the poutin' _really _kicks into high gear. _He took a deep breath and huffed it out loudly.

"Come on, Sam. You're so pissed at Dad for leaving again we can't even _talk_ about him now?"

He didn't answer. Dean inhaled sharply through his nose and gathered his patience, knowing Sam would answer eventually.

Sam looked up at the stars and sniffed. "No, it's not that." He looked back down at the ground.

Dean launched a silent countdown, waiting for the rest. _Five, four, three, two…_

"I guess I just don't have a lot of warm and fuzzy memories from those trips."

_Houston, we have liftoff.  
_

Sam stared into the fire like he was studying it for some sort of clue. He spoke again without taking his eyes off the flames. "Mostly I remember not being able to do anything right."

_Shit. Here we go again. _Dean's reflex was always to argue, to defend, but he knew the path the fight would take from here too well – it was worn hard and smooth from heavy use. _Fuck it_. Right now he was damned if he had the energy to re-grind that particular axe.

So he tried a different tack. "Well, Dad's not here and you're a big boy now, so… you tell one."

Sam huffed a short laugh. "Not me."

"C'mon, Sammy. Tell me a story. I've told you plenty of 'em."

"Everybody knows you're the king of bullshit."

"Very true. S'why you've heard all mine." _Not _true. Not by a long shot. But Sam's face was already starting to loosen a little, lose that closed-off look, and that was worth pushing him a little harder.

"Shit, Sammy - you must have done _something_ worth telling about in all those years of college." _Tell me why you want to go back to that life so bad._

"Nah, not really. I was pretty boring – mostly working and studying."

"I have no trouble believing that whatsoever." He sat up and stretched his neck to one side, then the other, watching Sam from under his brow. _Forget it, little brother. No way you're getting off that easy._

"Come on, Sam. Throw me a friggin' bone. No hot cheerleaders? Slutty sorority sisters? Lesbian roommates?"

"Dude - that's not college. That's 'Girls Gone Wild.'"

"Huh. Yeah. Those are _awesome_." Dean finished off his beer and popped the top off another one. "You know, girls are into that whole sensitive thing you've got goin' on – I bet you could get yourself a video camera and really…"

"Oh my God." Sam cut him off. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. "All right, fine." He sighed. "I'll do it, if it'll shut you up. Even if I have to make something up. But I'm gonna need another beer."

Dean handed him one. Sam opened it and took a long pull. He looked into the fire for a minute before a smile touched one corner of his mouth.

"My first semester," - _before Jessica - _Dean heard it clear as rain -_ "_I was at the library late a lot of nights. You know – overachieving, I guess." _Alone and scared shitless. _"There was this girl working there that I kind of knew from a music appreciation class."

Dean snorted.

"What? I had to take electives. Besides, smartass - the class was probably eighty percent female." He took a drink. "Anyway, she was pretty cute and this one night she just kept coming over to my table, asking if she could help me and you know - hovering. She's leaning over me and shit, and I'm getting fuck-all work done." He breathed a short laugh through his nose.

"Of course I'm having a hard time caring by then anyway. So, I start trying to think of something to say, but that one class was all I really had to go on with her, so I finally ask her for help finding a book with a particular Mozart reference just to make some sort of conversation."

Dean grunted and made a face. "Mozart? You call that flirting? No wonder you never get laid. Pussy."

"Well, I thought about asking her if she wanted to see my knife collection, Dean, but when you ask a person about Mozart, they don't run away screaming."

_Like you would have taken knives when you left. No weapons, no hunt, no old life, you said – a clean slate. Too bad you completely wiped me…us…off the board while you were at it._

"Anyway, she started fussing around the stacks, and apparently all of the Mozart references were on the bottom shelves, because she just _kept_ bending over in front of me."

"Nice ass?"

"Unbelievable."

"Now we're gettin' somewhere."

"So, she finally found the book, or _a_ book anyway – you know, who cared at that point? And she's standing there showing me this book, letting her left tit brush against my arm, you know." He whistled between his teeth.

"And?"

"And then her boss came around the corner and told us to get out so they could close up." Sam took a drink to hide the smirk.

Dean cocked his head and looked at him skeptically. "Well, you were right, Sam. You suck at this storytelling thing. That could be the most boring shit I ever heard."

"Told you. Anyway, you asked for it. You want sex - read Penthouse Forum."

"I wish I had one on me. You know - to see if I can revive my will to live after hearing that."

"We were in a library, Dean."

"So?" Dean smirked.

"So, I was trying to stay under the radar."

"You mean you wussed out."

"Well, it was pretty late." Sam paused and drank, flashed a dimple. "And I had to make sure she got home okay." He paused. "We almost made it there, too."

Dean raised his head. "Almost."

Sam looked him in the eye. "Yeah." He nodded, deadpan.

"We were almost there when she dragged me into the back seat of the car. She had her thong off before her ass hit the upholstery."

Dean choked on his beer as they both cracked up, their laughter bouncing off the canyon walls and drifting away like smoke.


End file.
